Define the Silver Lining
by Kolbie Ru-Ru
Summary: A series of drabbles focused on various characters. No pairings. Rated T for mentions of blood and death. Updates Occasionally. Inspiration stems from John Mayer, and the story and chapter titles are lines from his songs.
1. No One Really Ever Wins

Bon, for all of his pride and confidence and intelligence, has moments of doubt, too, even if he strives to prove otherwise.

He's not immortal. None of them are. One slip-up, one careless move and his life could end just as easily as the demons they slay so nonchalantly.

They're just a bunch of kids, not even out of school, and yet they go all in, risk everything for their own ambitions and goals.

He wonders, idly, those rare instances he's not surrounded by noise and companionship, who will be the first to fall.

Exorcists, nameless, faceless, die in battle every day. It's not uncommon, especially for cocky teenagers who've yet to experience what it really means to murder another living being, to commit deeds so heinous they begin to question the purpose of it all.

He's noticed that their mentors, people that have been killing for years, wear empty smiles that don't quite reach their eyes, ghosts lingering and glazing them over.

It's then that he thinks maybe his dream _is_ ridiculous. He should just be glad that he's alive and well. What can he, a lowly ExWire, really do to the king of all demons?

The obnoxious grin of a familar face comes to mind, then, boasting of wild tales and a similar aspiration, and quite suddenly, his doubts slink back to the crevices of his mind to be locked away once more and everything becomes clear.

It's not a matter of "can" or "can't". He _will_ kick Satan's ass, lest that black-haired moron beat him to it.


	2. Am I Livin' It Right?

Shima can remember a time when chasing skirts was his _only_ priority, sad and pathetic as it may be.

He'd never even considered that the group of seven would become the most important aspect of his life.

Taking a bullet for someone else had seemed laughable only a while ago, and dropping everything to rush to a _male_ friend in need would have earned an eye roll.

Now, as the blood oozes from the fresh wound on his thigh, he ponders exactly when such a major change occured in his wiring and just why the hell he didn't know about it until he found himself pushing Rin out of the line of fire.

The pain has all but disappeared, and his vision is going fuzzy. The only thing keeping him awake is the hysteria surrounding him and the constant slapping of his face.

The tickling of breath in his ear helps as well, even if the whispered words of comfort fail to reach him.

Later, when every inch of his skin is covered in bandages, courtesy of Shiemi's fumbling fingers, he wakes to light snoring from underneath a nest of black hair and finds that he doesn't regret his decision one bit.


	3. All My Fears Have Cornered Me Here

It's midnight, probably. Feels like it's been hours, anyway.

The trees have darkened the already blackened sky. No moonlight to speak of.

The ground is wet and cold, makes him shiver.

He wishes he'd thought to bring along a jacket or any sort of clothing, really.

His feet move of their own accord, take him deeper into the forest.

He has a mission to complete, has to accomplish this one thing himself.

His glasses slide down his nose again. He pauses to fix them.

The scripture lay uselessly in his bag. The words rest on his tongue.

He supposes he's lost. He's not that disappointed.

Another left, and then another. He spots a faint glow up ahead.

He realizes he's gotten there first, finds he'd rather not have.

A scream echoes menacingly, and he waits and waits.

He nearly faints when the group led by a toothy grin enter the clearing.


	4. Been Holdin' Out for a Home Life

As the first rays of light begin peeking through the window shades, the young man sets down his pen and raises his arms above his head, arching his back in an attempt to rid it of knots.

A small yawn breaks the comfortable silence of the hazy morning before quickly being stifled as he glances warily over at the lump of blankets on the bottom bunk.

Sensing no disturbance, he removes his hand and swivels his chair around, moving closer to the bed, footsteps muffled by the carpeted floor.

His older brother is snoring, lightly and in random intervals, a pattern ridiculously close to his usual demeanor, and his mouth is hanging open in a comical 'O'.

Yukio chuckles quietly, smiles a small grateful smile, places his glasses gently on the bedside table, and climbs in next to the still slumbering boy.

Said boy, only a blurred mess of black locks to his twin, rolls over and snuggles into the crook of his neck in one fuid motion, stunning Yukio only momentarily.

Then he, too, falls into a dreamless slumber.


End file.
